


Alistair's Journal

by lyrium addict (quirky_turtle)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Chewie is the dog, Zenwyth Surana
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 20:02:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13577964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quirky_turtle/pseuds/lyrium%20addict
Summary: A collection of thoughts/inner ramblings Alistair has about the Warden throughout their travels. Will be updated sporadically.





	1. Questions

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on my first play through of DA:O. These are head-canons I had while playing that I decided to write down for fun. Yes I project onto characters and put way too much thought into the role playing.

I thought she was fearless. She would walk right into any situation, even if she didn’t know what it was. She never let on that she was afraid. Even as we huddled in a cleared out room, catching our breath before our next fight. But, I’ve noticed something. It started on one of our first nights at camp. I was on watch and she was having a nightmare. She woke up screaming. I tried to calm her down, but to no avail. I saw the panic in her eyes. Strangely, she asked me about my life before the Wardens. 

That’s when I realized, those are the times when she asks me questions. About my life in the Chantry. About the other Grey Wardens before her. After those fights were we just barely won. When we were all tired and facing almost assured death. Everytime she would give me the same small smile and ask me about whatever she could think of. I would tell her stories and watch as unnoticed tension left her. She was afraid. But, somehow, talking to me helped with that. Something about me made her feel safe. That thought shouldn’t make my heart swell so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When romancing Alistair, I rewarded myself for getting through nerve wrecking parts by talking to Alistair. 
> 
> "Hey, the Fade sucked. Here, talk to Alistair about life in the Chantry. You've earned this."


	2. Who's Cullen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during "The Broken Circle".

I am amazed by her. Not only had she escaped her own perfect prison, but she was able to find us all in the Fade, and drag us out. If she was incredible before, she was impossible now. It couldn’t have been easy for her. She didn’t tell me what her dream had been, but I didn’t need to ask. Whatever happened to her in the fade had changed her. She was still the elf I lo- grew to care for, but she seemed stronger. 

Once we were safe from the sloth demon, she determined that we take a few moments to rest. Wynne wanted to protest, but for the first time all day, she kept her mouth shut. She wandered across the room to see if she could find any lyrium potions. 

“You dreamt of living with your sister and her seven hundred children?” 

Maker, her grin is worthy of a thousand sonnets. Were I a poet, or a much drunker man, I would try to do its beauty justice. 

“Yes, what of it?” I responded, ready to be teased mercilessly. 

“Just not what I expected walking in.”

“Well, she’s the closest thing I have to family. Why wouldn’t I dream of being with her?” 

She paused, considering my answer. 

“If you grew up in the chantry, have you never…” 

Andraste’s breath, I couldn’t believe that was where the conversation was heading. I was not looking forward to having to… admit my ignorance to her. I tried to play the fool, but she wouldn’t have it. So, I turned the question on her, expecting her to just roll her eyes and drop the question. Well, I was right about the eye rolling part. 

“No, I’ve never licked a lamppost in winter.” 

I didn’t expect that. So, I, being a gentleman, was forced to be honest with her. There was no judgement in her eyes. She simply shrugged. 

“It’s hard growing up sheltered.” She looked down at waterskin. “When I was here, there wasn’t a lot of opportunity for… that, you know?” 

Too soon, her damned dog came running over to us. Whimpering the way a hundred pound beast bred for killing has no right to. She took that to mean it was time to move on. 

We continued up the tower. Wynne informed us that we were close. As we crossed the threshold, we found templars everywhere, slain. Only one remained, and he was shaking.

“Cullen, no.” 

The words fell from her lips, so very quiet, but I could almost hear the heartbreak behind them. She ran to him, to the barrier. 

“This trick again? I know what you are! I will stay strong.” 

His voice was strained. Poor guy. He had watched his brothers die and believed we were a demon tempting him. She tried to assure him that we were real. She called him by name and reached out to him. When he began screaming at her, my hand instinctively went to the sword at my back. However, before I could touch the hilt, he fell to his knees. 

“Tempting me with the one thing I always wanted, but could never have…. Using my shame against me… my ill-advised infatuation with her… a mage, of all things.” 

The pain on her face was apparent. It was akin to betrayal. His whispered repentance for her, for… whatever was between them. 

“Cullen, it’s me. We’re really here to help.” she tried once more, not daring to try and touch him again. 

That was enough for him to turn on her again. A sin? How could falling for her be a sin? This man must be departed from his senses. The dog growled at the hostility directed at its master, and I had to admit that I wasn’t far behind him. 

Cullen spat the word “mage” at her so harshly, I almost saw her flinch. He demanded that she kill all the mages in the tower, and that seemed to be the last straw for her. I watched the ice slowly form over her, first in the eyes. I only saw this before with the blood mage, Jowan.

I just hope that I will never be on the receiving side of that look. 

She turned away from him as he continued to yell at her and damn her. I pretended not to notice the single tear streak on her cheek. She made her way up the stairs to the harrowing chamber, and I followed her. The way I have dozens of times, and the way I will hundreds of more. 

I am not a jealous man, but Cullen confused me greatly. She said she had never- but he was able to hurt her so deeply. They must of cared for each other… All questions for another time I suppose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe that Zenwyth (my Warden), shared in Cullen's feelings. However, they couldn't act on it because it was not allowed. Fun fact: Every thing Zenwyth said, it was I said out loud while playing that part. Cullen hurt me.


	3. Elf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after a run in with bandits.

My elf. She is ethereal, yet strong. She is graceful, yet manages to trip over her own bedroll in the morning. She is so foreign, yet so familiar. A living contradiction. 

I love the markings on her face. I love wrapping myself around her slight frame. I love the shiver that runs down her spine when I kiss her long ear. 

I called her my elf. Only in the privacy of her tent, or when we were truly alone. It was always a term of endearment. A testament to how she enraptured me. So, I was confused when she threw my pet name for her in my face during an argument. 

She has a tendency to run into battle. Which, I wouldn’t mind, but she is a mage. She doesn’t have armour. She doesn’t have a sword. She has some enchanted robes and her staff. To make matters worse, when she had to choose between healing herself or me, she always chose me. These traits led to some terrifying close calls. 

In her tent after one of these close calls, Wynne worked to heal the worst of her wounds. She damn near blew herself up by running into a trap. If she had just waited, Leilana could have warned her, or maybe I would have triggered it first. Either way, she wouldn’t be laying there. 

I made the mistake of telling thus. She asked me to let it go. What’s done is done, she said. I couldn’t let it go. The love of my life had nearly died today because she couldn’t learn her own limitations. My voice rose some, my tone growing harsher. 

Her reply was cutting, she almost hissed it out: 

“I’m sorry your pet elf isn’t in pristine condition. Too marred for your liking.” 

Wynne looked surprised and quickly saw herself out, handing me a roll of bandages before exiting the tent. I couldn’t even thank the old woman, because I was too shocked by what I had just heard. 

My pet elf? That is not how I think of her. She is an angel- a valkyrie in my eyes. I couldn’t understand why she thought that. Until the realization of what a complete idiot I am arrived. 

My elf, grew her hair out so that they would cover her ears. She asked Wynne if she knew a way to heal the scars of the tattoos on her face. She had been called “knife ears” and mistaken for a servant nearly everywhere they turned. 

Her elven features weren’t some exotic beauty to her. They were things to be hidden and ashamed of. Things that caused people to infantilize her. Things that caused some people to try and hurt her. 

With that revelation, all my will to fight left. Her bright eyes were almost wild. Prepared to fight if need be. I said nothing and silence fell over us. Instead, I continued to bandaged her wounds, picking up where Wynne had left off. 

I am not a man of thought (clearly), nor am I a man who is great with words. But, I took the time that I spent patching her up to think about what I wanted to say. I wanted to say so much, but I only had one chance to try and right the wrongs I unknowingly built. 

After patching up the worst of the jagged marks on her back, I took a deep breath and laid beside her. I looked up at the ceiling of the tent. She remained prone, resting her head on her arms. The silence stretched between us a bit longer. I finally broke it with a truth neither of us could deny. 

“I buggered this up, didn’t I?” 

It almost eased me to hear her laugh quietly. I dared look at her. An apologetic look on her face, which was sure to match the one I was sporting. I turned on my side to face her more directly. 

“I’m sorry.” She stated, shocking me for the second time in the span of twenty minutes. Why was she sorry? 

“No. I’m sorry. I should have realized how my calling you that might make you feel.” 

“But, I know that you don’t mean it that way...I even like it… I just…” 

A sigh escaped her then. I afforded her the same luxury she gave me in these situations. I gave her time to gather her thoughts. I traced the lines of her uninjured shoulder with my finger, knowing how touch soothed her. 

“Sometimes, I worry that my being an elf will…. ruin things between us. Maker, Alistair, you’re the rightful heir to the throne-” 

I interrupted her to remind her that I didn’t want the throne. 

“That might not matter, Alistair. And, me being an elf AND a mage… there is no way we can end up together in the end. That is, of course, if we survive the Blight.” 

I stopped running my finger along her shoulder, and instead placing my hand on her arm. 

“We will survive this Blight, and after that… I’m never letting you go. Kingship be damned. I gave my life to the Grey Warden’s and I have my heart to you.” 

A smile graced her lips and my thumb ran along a scar on her bicep.  
“You're not marred, you know. I love your scars and the story they tell.” I leaned in to kiss her shoulder. “My only wish is that you would let me take some of the heavier hits, instead of yourself.” 

“I’m a leader, Alistair. I can’t just hide behind the rest of you.” 

“You don’t have to go rushing in before us either. You’re a great leader without that.” 

“How?” 

“You are always taking care of us! You ration our food so we never go hungry, you keep us well equipped, Maker’s breath, I saw you help Zevran lace up his boots this morning.” 

She laughed a little at that. Good. 

“You care about us. And we care about you. I, of course, care about you the most-” 

Growling came from right outside the tent. Apparently the mutt didn’t like that statement. 

“Maybe the second most, but I was trying to say. We hate seeing you get hurt like this. I hate seeing you get hurt like this.You don’t need to be on the front lines to be a good leader.” 

“Thank you, Alistair.” Her voice was a whisper. 

“Anytime, love.” I whispered back. 

She fell asleep not long after. I assume the day’s events finally caught up with her. I stayed awake for a while, just looking at her. 

Even though she said that the pet name didn’t bother her, I want to reassure her that she is so much more to me than an elf. She is magical, and powerful. She’s one of the last Grey Wardens. She’s… my love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First play through, I ran into EVERY trap ever, and forgot to heal myself. I wondered how Alistair would feel, watching his love run into danger repeatedly.

**Author's Note:**

> When romancing Alistair, I rewarded myself for getting through nerve wrecking parts by talking to Alistair. 
> 
> "Hey, the Fade sucked. Here, talk to Alistair about life in the Chantry. You've earned this."


End file.
